call•me•jonah

the sun was already beginning to set when jonah pulled into the state park visitor center. he laughed. he didn't know why. it kinda burst out of him like a burp. as he approached the visitors center he began to ask himself questions like: will they care if i have a tent or not? should i ask? why would they care?

you want one near the showers? or does that matter?

(do i smell bad or something?) nah, secluded if it's possible.

i'll give ya 64. right here.

she highlighted the numbers on the park map. they were close to the left edge of the paper. jonah smiled.

perfect. he said.

thought the park wasn't big, it took a while winding through the twisted roads to reach the back. he pulled his black jetta into the spot and stepped out. it was perfect, just what he wanted. well almost. there was still a water spicket. he didn't need that.

i wonder if i'm paying extra for that.

there was also a picnic table. perfect, i'll sleep on that, he thought. he didn't have a tent. nor even a sleeping bag exactly. just a sheet sewn together and a fleece sack.

that night after the sun had set, after he had walked around the park a bit, searching in vain for the waterfalls of the camp's namesake, after he had dined on his honeywheat bagel and peanut butter and chased off two curious raccoons, he lay his fleece down for padding on the table and curled up in his cotton sheet. the air was heavy and hot even in the dark. his skin was damp with sweat, but he didn't dare get out of the sheet for the mosquitos. he wondered if mosquitos liked faces. if he would wake up pizza faced. he dozed. awakened ever few minutes by a strange noise or a little sting on his neck or shoulder. but he didn't mind. this is it man. he would say to himself and laugh.
eventually however the stings became too frequent, he had killed far too many ants. he sat up on the table. it was 230. he shined his flashlight down where his head had been. and saw it vibrating with excited ants.

oh my.

quite heavy eyed, and disappointed he began to exterminate the little pests one by one. then when he could see no more to flick off he lifted the sheets and shook them out violently. he wondered if someone saw him from a distance if they might think the sheet was a ghost. maybe a woman haunting the woods.

plan B. sleep on the car. it won't be that bad he thought. he propped himself on the hood up against the windshield. the engine was still warm. he looked up at the stars. they shone dimly through he clouds. it was difficult to keep from sliding off the hood, though it wasn't very steep. he placed his legs flat on it to create as much friction as possible and gradually fell asleep. he awoke shortly after to an ambulance and its coyote ensemble singing right along. they sound like they were inside the camp, not in the woods. they kept it up for a good ten minutes. but he fell asleep again anyway.

two hours later, feeling not very rested. and growing more irritated with the task of staying atop the car. he decided to throw caution to the wind and just sleep on the ground. choosing a leafy area close to the tent spot, he spread out his fleece once more and curled up in his sheet. it was growing quite chilly at this point. and ah what comfort. compared to the picnic table and the car hood, the cold hard ground was quite luxurious. he slept there until eight, when he was awakened by the ants. who discovered his new location and were punishing him vigilantly for his destruction of their brothers.

i need to get a tent. he thought.